


Revenge

by Neppy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Evil, F/F, F/M, M/M, Romance, Smut, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Team Talon (Overwatch), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 03:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neppy/pseuds/Neppy
Summary: Overwatch betrayed her to use her, so now she will turn against her former family, kill them, and gain her revenge.Yet not everything is as it appears to be, which are foes and which are allies? Lena Oxton will have a hard time finding out, and the result of all this is uncertain.





	1. Five Minutes Late

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my newest fic! Unlike the others, this one is IN PROGRESS meaning I don't have it all written down already. Also, this wasn't rushed! Comments are always ADORED! Don't forget to follow me, this story, and share it around~ 
> 
> Cheers love, see you around!

The circumstances of the mission were odd, to say the least.

  
Not that the popular hero, Lena Oxton, also known worldwide as Tracer, cared. She had been in odd missions before, back when Overwatch was an official thing and not an illegal band of vigilantes that called themselves heroes. Hell, she had even flown a time-machine into oblivion once. Nothing could top that.

  
Still, this mission didn't sit well with her. Overwatch had detected a signal in Norway, an abandoned mountain facility that used to be theirs was, for some reason, emitting the signal on an encrypted channel. Winston had accessed it and all evidence pointed at that it was yet another veteran responding to the Recall. It had been months since the recall had been initiated though, what had taken this fellow so long to answer? Why from up in some freezing mountains? It was a bit suspicious and everyone knew it could be a trap.  
That's why Lena had volunteered to go alone.

  
She was always the obvious choice. Fast, with the reaction time to dodge nearly anything thrown at her and the ability to blink through objects and pull herself out of them, she was also the safest choice. Despite that, it had been her job before to either check out the situation first or provide support to an actual battlegroup. This wasn't odd, she was just checking out the place first. If things got dicey then she'd bail.

  
"Arriving in ten seconds," Athena, the AI that seemed to inhabit all Overwatch systems, announced.

  
"Roger Athena, thanks," Lena happily replied, smiling up at the ship. Both Athena and Winston had told her countless times that interacting with an AI meant nothing but Lena was a proud follower of the Iris, she believed all machines had a soul in them, including AI.

  
The Brit was wearing, for the first time in years, her Slipstream gear. It was just as suitable for combat as her actual uniform and much warmer, which would be useful for this mission. She had sunglasses on instead of her goggles and of course her trusty pulse pistols holstered at her sides. Her stomach seemed to drop as the aircraft quickly descent, luckily Lena was strapped in and chewing gum.

  
Why did chewing gum help on aircraft anyway?

  
The ship's lights went off and silently, stealthily, it descended into a small clearing in the Norwegian forest. They landed with barely a wobble (Ha! Lena would have landed without the wobble) and the hatch across from her quietly opened. The hero finally unstrapped herself, made sure her chronal accelerator was running on minimum power so it wouldn't light up, and she made her way outside the ship. Athena began talking in her comms as she walked through the trees, knee deep in snow.

  
"You are not dressed for this kind of environment," She informed Tracer, who already knew this. "You should reach the facility in ten minutes, then you have twenty minutes to get inside or freeze. It's nighttime, so that might be shortened. This means-

 

"This means I'll have only ten bloody minutes, at best, to actually get inside. After that I'll have to run back to the ship or risk turning into a popsicle," Lena finished, smirking. "Consider it done, Athena, Tracer out."

  
That would be the last Lena heard from the AI until the mission was over. Any more radio contact would be risky, at best, deadly at worse. _If_ Talon were setting an ambush they would almost certainly be able to hack her communications device. Sombra had that talent with technology, after all.

  
Lena tried to push this out of her mind as she made her way through freezing, yet thankfully soft, snow. Her teeth were already chatting and she saw her breath appear as vapor. Norway was no joke, especially in the winter, and not wanting to freeze she put a little hop in her step and hurried up the mountain. Always in the cover of some tree, her eyes instinctively looking upwards for a sniper, or at the shadows for a wraith. Fighting Widowmaker for years, and even Reaper a few times, had made these actions second nature as of now.

  
She paused as she finally reached the treeline and, crouching behind some bushes, surveyed the area. It was much like she remembered it from her few deployments to this country. Trees surrounded a large area similar to a hill, covered in a perfect blanket of white snow. A metallic path used to be visible, with small lights flanking it, but that had been mostly buried by now. At the top of the hill bit, and at what would be the end of the path, sat a small fortress-like Overwatch base. This had served as both an Ecopoint and military outpost for Overwatch, back in the day.

  
Lena saw nothing out of the ordinary except lights coming through the windows. This place should have long been since abandoned, the lights meant someone was actually there. No snipers at the top or in the surrounding trees, although it was hard to tell in this darkness, and no other sign of life. The Brit noticed she would have no option but to hike up the path, in plain sight of anyone living there, to reach the base in the timeline she had.

  
"It's gonna be like that, eh?" She murmured to herself, pulling out a picture from a pocket on her breast, looking at it and smiling. It was from this Christmas, Lena and Emily were hugging each other and smiling widely. Behind them, one hand on his glasses and the other around the two women, was Winston. Her best friend.

  
A few seconds later she returned the photograph to where it should be and was hiking up the snowy pass, occasionally cursing as she tripped or as bare skin would accidentally touch the snow. She made it to the door and, finally, let her accelerator run at full power. Its glow lit up the nearby snow, the wall, and her face in dull blue. With a confident smile Lena pulled out her pistols and blinked up the wall. One, two, three times and she was thrown into the air, landing with a spin and her pistols aimed in front of her to witness-

  
Nothing. The roof was just as deserted as the bases perimeter. This didn't put a damper on her mood, nor did it stop her, for she immediately dashed forward to the door that gave roof access and hid next to it, listening for anything inside. After a minute (by her calculations and how her fingers felt, she judged that she had three minutes left before she had to go back) the hero stood up and blasted the handle off the door, gently pushing it open. Light streamed out, as if inviting her inside.

  
"Well, I hope it's an old friend," Lena murmured, entering the facility.

  
Well, it was someone she had already met. A friend? Not really.

  
Lena had memorized the plans for this building before coming here, and she still remembered some of the paths from the old days. After going down three flights of stairs and making her way through three empty hallways, she finally turned a corner and walked into the observatory room, where the light was coming from. 

 

It was a huge room that had three giant monitors up on the roof, the monitors were black but used to display images of space or of the aurora. Computers and machinery littered one side of the room, a conference table with more seats covered the opposite end, and in the middle of the room right under the main monitor was a makeshift common area with cushions, a coffee table and blankets. Lena could almost picture the scientists here laying around the common area looking up at an image of space, drinking coffee together.

  
But this time there was no such thing, no, this time the only person laying on one of the sofa's that made the common area had tan skin, dark hair dyed purple at the ends, and a black and purple jacket with leggings.

  
"Sombra," Tracer sneered, her weapons up. "Not even trying to hide? You're not much of a frontal force ya know."

  
"Please, who said I was here to fight?" The Mexican woman shot back, eyes glued to the ceiling as she tapped a holo-pad lazily. Was she playing Starcraft 2 on that? Hacking, surely.

  
"So you expect me to believe you're alone?" Lena laughed without humor, looking around. "You gonna come out Widowmaker? Or is it Doomfist this time? I know he escaped prison and we have a score to settle."

  
" _You_ aren't much for brutal fights either, _chica_ , so we both know you aren't dumb enough to fight us all alone." Sombra finally sat up, the holo-pad disappeared and she smiled widely. "Lucky for you, I'm alone this time. Come, sit, I made us coffee."

  
"You're out of your bloody mind if you think I'm going to believe you," Lena replied.

  
"Please, take your time. You can look at every nook and cranny for my partners, I'll just sit here, drink my coffee and eat my _bizcochos_."

  
"I'll take you up on that, just remember you can't surprise me by yourself," Lena warned. "I'm too fast for Widow, and certainly to fast for you."

  
Sombra simply chuckled, shoving some sort of pastry in her mouth. While she at her stupid biscuits and drank her coffee (maybe my cup had poison?) Lena carefully blinked around the room, inspecting as she said, for any signs of Talon occupancy. She mostly walked around, using blinks only at points she found would actually server to surprise her with an attack, and in a few minutes had to admit Sombra wasn't lying. They were alone, at least, in this room. The Brit took one more second to block the only door with a chair and then I returned to the hacker, who was licking some cream off her fingers with exaggerated sensuality, while giving her enemy a knowing look.

  
"Great, you know I'm gay, anything else before I arrest you?" The hero asked, crossing my arms and giving her an annoyed look.

  
"Are you not going to sit on drink your coffee? It took me, like, two minutes to repair the machine! That's a lot of time for someone like me!"

  
Lena sighed, sat down, and started munching on one of the thingies. A _bizcocho._ It had some sweet, thick spread inside which was quite delicious. Her guns were at her side, unholstered but out of her hands.

  
" _Dulce de leche_ ," Sombra explained, as if reading Lena's mind. "Most of it comes from a country called Uruguay, although Argentina makes it too. I had a friend there and let me tell you, _amiga_ , we need more of that stuff in Mexico-"

  
"What do you want, Sombra?" The Brit cut in, not ready to listen about hispanic cuisine.

  
"It's not what I want, Lena Oxton, it's what you want," Sombra answered cryptically. Lena simply raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm saying I have something you want!"  
"Yeah, and I'm a villain. Wait does this have to do with the cream licking? Because you're hot but I'm not interest-"

  
" _Por Dios_ , no!" Sombra interrupted, looking slightly appalled by the idea. "This is actually important, Lena. Can I call you Lena?"

  
"No."

  
"So Lena, you know back in the day when Overwatch actually mattered to the world it had a lot of funding, right?" Sombra continued, ignoring the other. "So, like anything with money, it had lots of branches and secrets. Captain Amari's rifle? Illegal until the final phase of its creation by Torbjorn. Blackwatch? _Wow_ that branch has a lot of dirt on it."

  
"What's your point?" Lena asked, her mouth dry. Yes, she knew Overwatch had its shady bits and she was not at all proud about that but for the most part she tried to ignore it.

  
"My point is the shady pieces of your organization didn't die with it," Sombra whispered, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile. "And the Recall revealed some new information to me."

  
"Say I believe you," Lena carefully said, setting down her pastry, removing her glasses to show Sombra her glare. "Why would you even tell me this?"

  
"Didn't you wonder how I knew you were a lesbian, Lena?" Sombra smirked.

  
"Maybe you didn't? Maybe you just thought I was hotter than hell and decided to test your luck?" Lena replied, returning the smile. It disappeared once Sombra spoke again.

  
"Emily."

  
Lena didn't even think, she blinked forward and grabbed Sombra then blinked twice more and had her pinned against the far wall, hard enough that Sombra cried out with pain, completely taken by surprise, yet when she looked at Lena her hands merely went up in a peaceful gesture, and she smiled again.

  
"It doesn't surprise me that you know her," Lena said through gritted teeth. "But if you mentioned her to Talon, or try anything with her-"

  
"Talon doesn't know a fraction of the things I do," Sombra purred, leaning forward so her mouth was by the Brit's ear. "Overwatch likes to keep their heroes on a tighter leash now. Tell me, Lena, what would be the best way to keep you fighting against Talon? To risk your life even when you have someone to live for."

 

Lena thought she knew where this was going, and she definitely did not want to hear it, didn't want it to possibly be true.

  
"Revenge, Lena. Blame Talon for the murder of your loved ones, then set you out to kill us. Like a dog on a leash." The hacker created a small holo-panel with her left hand and information began pouring in. Lena's eyes skimmed most of it, but she did catch their shared address, both their names, mentions of Blackwatch, Angela Ziegler, Jack Morrison and a time.

  
Three in the morning.

  
"What time is it?" Lena whispered.

  
"Almost two A.M," Sombra replied. "Might want to hurry, _amiga_ , you still have a chance."

  
It could have all been a lie. It probably was a lie. Sombra could create whatever she wanted in the digital world, she could invent whatever she wanted, do anything on a computer. It was probably a setup of some kind.

  
Yet Lena couldn't take that chance. If there was the slightest chance in the universe that Sombra was being truthful then Lena had to play it safe and make sure nothing happened to Emily.

  
"She better be ok," Tracer rasped, letting go of Sombra and dashing out of the room, a neon blue streak following her.

  
She didn't pause at all, no, she dashed all the way outside of the building, jumped off the roof and blinked forward, continuing her sprint down the snowy path and into the forest, into the ship. She slammed her fist against a button and everything sprung to life. The hatch began to shut.

 

"Lena." Athena sounded surprise. "What are you-"

  
"Override code: 37FG9OSX, manual control to ship and zero access to all systems," Lena yelled.

  
This would give her complete control over the ship and cut off Overwatch from her comms, from even being able to track her. The hero was already in the pilots seat, strapped in, her hands flying over the different buttons and tiny levers as she prepped for a hasty take-off.

  
The last thing Sombra saw from inside the base, while sipping on her coffee, was the aircraft hover into the sky and speed off. She used her free hand to tap the communication device on her ear.

  
"She's on her way."

 

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

 

The engines were nearly dead.

  
Lena had used the override code mainly to avoid any detection from Overwatch, just in case Sombra wasn't lying, but she also did it so she could access all the ships controls which included the overdrive speed. Problem is, overdrive burned out the engines. Lena had ten minutes before the three in the morning, and she needed to figure out where to land this thing or everything would be for naught.

  
The Brit kept her eyes peeled open as she hovered over the city, watching people look up and point at her. The rooftops were much to small, so was the square in front of the library, but maybe...

  
Lena made her way to Mondatta's statue, eyeing the open area surrounded by buildings. There were tons of people there but she'd have to hope they were smart enough to move away as the ship descended. This landing was hasty, with nothing fancy or pretty, Lena dropped it almost like a rock and bumped in her seat. She unstrapped herself and jumped off the seat, dashing outside in a streak of blue and down the road, breaking through the crowd that had formed around the ship and making a beeline for her apartment. Minutes later she was there, she didn't say hello to the doorman, she didn't wait for the elevator, no, Lena just kept running and running. She completed several flights of stairs in seconds and finally paused for a breath. Her heart skipped a beat.

  
The door down the length of the hallway, _her door_ , had been torn to pieces. Lena blinked forward and into her home. 

 

"No...no no no no no!" She yelled, blinking past the living area, which had all its furniture overturned or destroyed, blinking past down one last hallway and into their room.  
Like the rest of her house, everything was a mess. The bed was overturned and broken, the picture frames were nothing but broken glass, the closet was kindling too. And in the center of the room, laying on the floor.

  
"Emily."

  
Tears began to well in the Brits eyes as she blinked to her girlfriend, grabbing her shoulders, looking for life. But no, she was too late. The red-heads eyes were staring away at nothing, her chest didn't move, her hand had lost its grip on a pistol, something Lena had allowed her to keep just in case their enemies found them. Her stomach was bloody, but that was it.

  
"It was supposed to be three am..." Lena murmured, sobbing and hugging Emily's corpse. She looked at the clock and her heart broke even further: It was 3:05. "I'm so sorry Em, my God, I'm so so sorry."

  
Lena's sobs filled the room for hours, she refused to let go of her lover's body, refused to open her eyes and see the truth once more, the ugly truth which was right in her face. Eventually, as the sun began to rise and shine through the window, Lena's grief gave way to something new. Something burning and powerful, something she hadn't felt even with the fall of Overwatch.

  
She wanted revenge, and she knew just how to get it.


	2. Compañera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I am back! I've seen your comments and I'm so sorry like-  
> Wow, I did NOT plan to disappear like this lol  
> This is something for you all to know in the future: If i disappear and didn't say I would abandon this, THEN THIS IS STILL GOING TO GET UPDATED. I will NEVER abandon a work I know people read without warning said people first~!  
> And maybe in the future, if I see my writing shcedule gets whack again I'll make a twitter? I barely check this page so if you message me /there/ I might see it more ;D  
> We'll see! For now, enjoy the chapter you've been waiting for! I'll try to update again waaaay sooner

The ocean air was cool, pleasant even, as the cargo ship sailed across the English channel. Lena was leaning against the metal bars, looking out at the vast sea and the large stain of land which was her destination: France. She would find who she was looking for their, probably, and if not she would move on to somewhere else.

 But first; France.

 She was wearing a light blue hoodie over her regular attire, the hood pulled well over her hair. No one had really noticed her as a stowaway and just in case she had kept away from the crew and the few passengers that were there.

  _Emily really would’ve liked this_ , Lena thought, her heart aching much as it had all night.

She had gotten over most of the initial shock from Emily’s death, after all, it hadn’t been the first time someone close to her had died, but that did little to soothe the anguish and pain her heart would always feel. Lena already had bad memories of King’s Row but now she doubts she’d ever return if she could avoid it.

 “Alright, prepare to dock!” The captain, a sturdy old man with a red beanie, yelled. Men rushed around to follow his order, knowing already what to do. Lena sighed, taking one last longing look at the French coastline, so beautiful yet filled with uncertainty, and then walked away.

  
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

  
The world must have pitied her misfortune because, much to the Brit’s surprise, border control did not stop her. Her I.D worked fine, so apparently, no one in London had declared her a criminal yet, and she was allowed into the country without so much of a glance from the guards.

“Alright, first thing’s first,” Lena murmured. “A car. And breakfast.”

 Half an hour later our hero was munching on a buttery _croissant_ as she sped down the half-empty streets of this town. Her face was expressionless as she slowly exited the town and went into the countryside, the coast constantly at her side.

 There was one place in France she thought she could find who she wanted or at least a clue to their whereabouts, and she knew where it was by memory because she had been there several times before. Once for an investigation, another time for a funeral, and a third because of nostalgia.

 “ _Chateau Guillard_ ,” She whispered grimly as the castle-like mansion loomed in the distance, menacing, alone in the water. The waves beat at the spiky rocks below, the vines grew across the wall, and the gate was rusted but still standing. Her bike slowed to a start at the main entrance and Lena pulled her hood down, stepping out of the vehicle. “You still here, spider?”

 It wasn’t hard to get inside the property. Abandoned after Gerard’s death and Amelie’s...conversion, the place had been chained shut and deemed federal property. However, a dash across the water (which drained her accelerator quite a bit) was enough to make it to the property.

 Once upon a time, this had been part of a beautiful garden filled with trees, bushes, flowers, and so on. Now, besides a few trees, everything was gone. Stone, dust, death. This place had changed too much for Lena’s taste, and she decided she would rather like to leave as soon as possible. With this thought, she jogged towards the main entrance, still cracked open after a raid to find Widowmaker years ago, and slipped inside. As she expected, no cameras were visible anywhere, no guards. Just dust and old memories. She was making her way towards the wine cellar underneath some chandeliers when she heard it.

  _Click._

 Lena turned her head a fraction to the left, not at all concerned with the bullet that had grazed her hair, and faked a smile.

 “ _Hola!”_ She said with a terrible accent. “How’s it going, Amelie?”

 Widowmaker hissed, perched atop one of the chandeliers with her eyes through the sights.

 “I’m french.”

 “Potato tomato,” Lena replied with a giggle. “I just knew I would find you here!”

 “You didn’t find her, we just knew you’d come,” Another voice, with a Spanish accent, said. Materializing from thin air came the Brit’s old friend, right behind her. Tracer would’ve spun but she felt a gun pressed against her spine. “Gotcha.”

 “Sombra,” Lena whispered bitterly, her heart racing. This had all started with her if Lena could just get her hands around this stupid woman’s throat-

  _No, no wait up Tracy,_ she thought to herself. _No killing anyone, you needed their help_.

 “Who else, love?” Sombra answered mockingly. “How’d your trip to London go? Were you there fast enough?”

 “One more word and I’ll stop being so nice,” The Brit said, her voice more menacing than ever before, her previous thoughts out the window.

 “Ok ok! Sheesh, _esta de malas_ ,” Sombra mumbled, removing her gun. “So are you going to tell us what you want or do we have to guess?”

 “Prove what happened to Emily wasn’t Talon,” Lena whispered. “Not your fancy codes and holo-pads, something even I can’t deny.”

 The thought that the Commander, or Winston...that _Angela_ was capable of murdering such a sweet innocent person as Emily still seemed impossible. Lena was no idiot, she knew her friends well. Still, skepticism had entered her heart. She needed proof, good proof.

 “I also knew you’d say that,” Sombra said with a wide smile. “Two out of two! _Araña!_ Show her~”

 Our hero turned towards the widow, who after a few seconds and a sigh clicked the safety of her rifle on and grappled down. With something akin to disgust she pulled a device from a pouch on her side and tossed it to her rival.

 “Go ahead, the red button,” Sombra whispered.

 Lena inspected the simple device carefully. A black rectangle of plastic, cool to the touch, with a small red button on the side. With a deep breath, she pressed the button and one side slid over, revealing a tiny screen. It burred to life revealing…

 “What in blazes…?”

 It was fuzzy but Tracer easily recognized the conference room of the current Overwatch headquarters, a supposed secret. The room was simple, four metal walls, a large light on the roof, a round table and a dozen chairs. Currently, three chairs were occupied.

 “Overwatch is fragile,” Angela Ziegler, also known as Mercy, said. “We have few members and their dedication is questionable, at best.”

 “It’s been years since we were all together,” Winston, across the table from Angela, reasoned. “Most of them have new lives, new people, new views. We’re lucky this many even answered the Recall.”

 "This isn’t enough!” She countered angrily. “I was hesitant to come back, like you say, but I am here now and I will do anything to rebuild our family. Right now, our family almost doesn’t want to join us.”

 “She’s right,” Morrison said, walking out from the shadows, his mask on, rifle gone. “We need to give them a reason to stay, a reason to fight, something better than the world’s dangers. Motivation.”

 “We’re not popular like before,” Winston remembered. “There are other ways to help the people, we aren’t honorable, desirable, strong. Some might think it’s smarter to take other routes.”

 “We all know Overwatch is the best, the only, choice the world has left,” Morrison interrupted. “Before, we lost public opinion because we did things that were wrong. Now, the public eye doesn’t matter. We’re secret.”

 “Jack-” Mercy began.

 “Commander.”

 “Commander,” She amended. “What are you suggesting?”

 “We need to give our heroes motivation by any means necessary. Revenge, love, anything we can use. Winston tell Angela what you told me earlier.”

 “Well…” The scientist shifted uncomfortably in his seat as if he didn’t like where this was leading. “Lena is a good example; she’s told me of her doubts to Overwatch. She still fully supports the idea but...she has someone now, and an actual life, and she’s still helping people. She thinks it’s better to stay away from us.”

 Lena’s eyes widened in shock as she watched the conversation play out. This was true, Lena _had_ said that to her friend, and spoken about this with Emily.

 "Pay attention,” Widowmaker murmured, smirking.

 “If Talon were to...do something to Emily, Lena would have nowhere else to go, and revenge in her mind,” Morrison finally declared.

 

“Jack Morrison, do _not_ tell me I truly heard this!” Angela yelled, suddenly standing up and slamming her palms against the table. “We cannot stoop this low-”

 “Then what do we do!” Jack yelled back, walking right up to the doctor. “Every single day our enemies kill the people we’re supposed to protect! Every single day thousands die, thousands we can save! You’ve seen them yourself Angela, we all have.” He took off his mask, throwing it aside harshly, showing his scarred face. “No one cares about ethics, not the governments, or Talon, or anyone. We need to use their own tactics to beat them, or we’re doomed.”

 “Just like last time.”

 The doctor looked shocked, her face paler than it already was, as the commander turned away she finally fell to her seat, looking distraught. After a few minutes of silence she finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

 “How do we get Talon to do this?”

 “They won’t,” Morrison said, putting the mask back on. “This was my idea, blame Talon but...I’m doing it.”

 “Very well,” Angela murmured, her eyes tearing up. “I hope it is worth it, I...I must go now.”

 The screen went dark, as did Lena’s heart.

Everything matched up. The area, how Winston and Angela reacted, the things they knew and said. Every bit of it added up, made sense, seemed true. There was no way Sombra could have created this, right? She was good with computers but not a perfect imitator of people.

 Lena was semi-surprised to feel tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared, unblinking, at the darkened screen. She found herself remembering Christmas dinner with Winston and Em, how much fun they had, all the stories they shared. She remembered how they hoped for a happy reunion next year with the other heroes. Now she realized that would never happen. Nor would Overwatch be what it used to be, she wouldn’t get her family back, ever.

 “Awh, is the little girl going to cry?” Widowmaker taunted.

 She had barely finished the sentence when Tracer flashed into her and against a wall, slamming her with enough force that her weapon fell out of her hand. The sniper was, for once, completely taken by surprise, even more so when she felt the cold barrel of a pulse pistol under her chin.

 “One more word, Amelie,” She whispered, dead serious, her eyes full of tears and burning hatred. “Give me a bloody excuse to pull this trigger.”

 “You would no-” Widowmaker began but was interrupted when a shot went off and grazed the side of her head, a shot so precise the widow wasn’t sure if sheer luck or Lena’s good aim kept her from dying.

 “I would shut up if I was you,” A grave, raspy, and somehow dark voice said. The Brit’s veins turned to ice but after a few seconds she let go of her nemesis and turned around, eyes meeting with the mask of-

 “Reaper,” She murmured, more so with hatred than with surprise. “Was wondering when you’d show up.”

 “I wasn’t in any hurry, have you made your choice?” He asked, crossing his buff arms.

“What choice exactly? To shoot your cheeky little partner there?” She joked, nodding back to Widow, who in return clenched her teeth but said nothing.

 “Cut the crap, _amiga_ , we know why you’re here. I met up with knew because I knew this would happen,” Sombra said with a roll of her eyes. “Overwatch betrayed you, they’re doing shit for their own gain, just like everyone else. Your best bet for revenge is-” She spread her arms around the room. “Us.”

 “If you join us...there’s no turning back,” Reaper warned. “We won’t kill you now if you leave.”

 “Talon will use you for more than your stupid goals,” Widowmaker continued, picking up her rifle and walking to her partners. “They will use you for their benefit and you can not hesitate, cannot be a hero.”

 “On one condition,” Lena said, her voice heavy, as was her heart, for the decision she was about to make was massive. “I still get to be me, no mind experiments, no massive changes. Lena Oxton, herself, will do this.”

 “You’d trust us enough to keep that promise?” The Mexican asked eyebrow raised.

 “Nope, but I have no other choice. I won’t, and can’t, take on my friends- old friends by myself.”

 The three Talon agents shared a few looks. Sombra was smiling, seemingly pleased with the outcome of the situation, Widowmaker tried to look neutral on the matter but was obviously annoyed and (oddly enough) couldn’t hide how she felt this time, Reaper’s emotions were indiscernible under his mask.

 “Ok, let’s go _compañera_ ,” Sombra cooed excitedly.

 Lena side, truly wondering what she had just gotten herself


	3. The Beginning

The ship was slowly coming to a halt. Most people wouldn’t have noticed the slight descent as it began, or that tiny change in the engines as the ship steadily descended, and no normal passenger would have noticed how the breeze pushed the ship ever so slightly as it hovered over the landing pad.

However, Lena was still one of the best pilots in the world. She could always tell what was going on with an aircraft. She knew they were at their destination.

“Let’s go,” Reaper said, his voice unusually passive. On cue, the ship made a single bump and came to a stop. 

“Your pilot’s rubbish,” Lena chirped, bumping into Reaper’s shoulder before walking out. 

The base itself was nothing Lena had ever seen in all her years fighting Talon. Completely surrounded by ocean, the island had seemingly natural rock formations around it, probably as a sort of defense. Above ground there seemed to be a sort of No Man’s Land between the islands edge and the base itself, certainly covered in mines. Starting with an obsidian black metal wall, energy fields of red light covered the only visible entrances and soldiers with red masks and nasty looking rifles stared ahead, unwavering. 

Lena whistled slowly, only half-joking with how impressed she was. 

“You guys have a lovely setup, A+ on the threatening aspect lads.”

“Mouth shut until we reach the base, you’re a member of our unit now,” Reaper replied, facing Lena. The black eyes of his mask seemed to bore into her. “We don’t show weakness, not to these dogs, and we won’t start with you.”

The two held their gazes for a solid minute until, finally, Lena huffed and broke her gaze. She supposed she was part of their unit now, and he would be the boss, right? 

“Alright, let’s go then, loves,” She murmured. 

If the outside of the base looked intimidating the inside looked very...tame. Besides the black color scheme and Talon guards everywhere, such as the guard towers, doorways, and so on, it looked like any other military base. The hallways were brightly let yet they still managed to feel oppressive with the tight spaces. Lena kept on her toes as she studied every bit of the base that she could.   
Two rights, one left, another right, go straight for three crossroads, She mentally recited. 

“We will begin your training immediately,” Reaper stated. Sombra and Widowmaker said nothing.

“You’re a bit quiet, love,” Lena whispered to Sombra. “Care to tell me why?”

“Keep quiet and keep moving, and be ready,” She hissed back, quite unlike her.

Lena had a bad feeling about this. 

They went through one last door before stopping in the center of a room. Lena halted beneath the only light, and besides her, nothing could be seen. Her hands instinctively reached for her blasters.

“You’re going to need those,” Sombra whispered with a smirk. “Adiós.”

Like ghosts, the three vanished into the darkness.

“Only the strong survive,” A deep, African voice said. A voice that was chillingly familiar. “Are you strong?”

Instead of answering the former Overwatch agent pulled her weapons out, her chronal accelerator glowing brighter as it charged up to be used. That voice...she was sure she had heard it. Especially in her dreams. After one specific mission that left her with nightmares.

“Come, Lena Oxton. Tracer.” Doomfist said as he walked into view, his gauntlet ready. “Prove your strength.”

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Doomfist POV

She hadn’t changed much. More womanly perhaps, still short but with a few added inches. The same suit and weapons. Seemingly the same exact Tracer that helped put him into jail.   
Revenge was not on Akande’s mind. He studied her only to aid him in the battle. A warrior must have a strong mind as well as a strong body. He had beaten her before, of course, but he would not underestimate any opponent. He would not fall victim to ego, to reassurance. Every battle could be his last.

“You wish to join our ranks, to enact revenge on those who have wronged you,” Akande stated. “We do not except the weak. If you come out of desperation, you will be killed.”

“I think you’re still a bit mad we jailed you, love,” Tracer answered quickly, with a forced smile.

Yes, he could see her anxiety. The bravery was a bluff. Tracer had experienced first hand what he could do, how strong he was. The real question, however, was had she grown stronger? Had she adapted? Had she learned?

“You understand, at least somewhat, your situation,” He decided after a few moments of tense silence. “Do not hesitate, Tracer, for I shall not.”

Tracer clenched her teeth. As soon as the words had left his mouth she disappeared, reappearing behind him. Pulse-shots burned into his side and he grunted, spinning and blocking them with his gauntlet. She blinked again, behind him, and he spun even faster to block her shots. She blinked forward, using the butt of her guns to slam him in the face, but she might as well have tickled him. She was incredibly fast but not physically strong. He swung a vicious right hook and she ducked it, blinked above him and landing with both her feet on his face, knocking him down before blinking away. 

“You have changed,” Doomfist said, shaking his head and standing up. “You have suffered.”

He yelled in defiance and charged her, his punch flying several feet. She dodged it by an inch and answered with more blaster-fire, which did little alone. He swung viciously and she vaulted over him once more, landing on his back. 

“More than you know,” Tracer whispered into his ear before blinking backward and off of him. 

She had barely reappeared when Doomfist launched another punch. Not enough time to dodge, he missed the intended target of her chronal accelerator and hit her arm, knocking one blaster out of her hand and causing her to cry out in pain. He followed up with shotgun fire, shooting her second gun out of her grasp.

“You are distracted. You are acting on anger. You must have a clear mind to win. You are no warrior, you are nothing,” Akande said, pulling his fist back and charging it up. “Goodbye.” 

He yelled and let his fist fly, crashing straight into the woman’s small frame. Before he made contact she lifted both arms in an X over her chronal accelerator. She flew back with a scream, probably of pain, and hit a wall. Dust along with a small amount of rubble flew out. 

“Pity, you could have aided my plans,” Akande lamented. After a few seconds, he turned around to leave. 

“O-oi…” A weak voice said from the dust. With true surprise written on his face, Doomfist turned to face the wall. The dust cleared and his eyes widened. 

Her arms had basically been pulverized, but they had taken the brunt of the blow. Her accelerator was completely intact and glowing a bright blue.

“You didn’t think I’d let you send me there again, did you?” She smirked, and her body turned transparent and flew back where it had been three seconds ago, in front of Doomfist. 

Instinctively, he raised his gauntlet. Just in time too, as he felt the weight of a small object stick to him and beep rapidly.

Boom!

With a grunt of pain, Doomfist was sent backward by Tracer’s pulse bomb, his feet scraping on the ground in an attempt to brake himself. He looked up only to get kicked in the face. Tracer blinked behind him and kicked him forward, using his lack of balance to her advantage, and then she blinked in the air and emptied her clips. Once more, she appeared to his right side and dodged a hasty punch. 

“You…” Akande murmured, flinching as she was peppered with pulse rounds. 

“You…” He stood up, blocking her next kick with his gauntlet.

“You are too reckless,” He said. 

She blinked to his left and, without looking, he grabbed her by the neck and spun, slamming her into a wall. Just as he thought, her accelerator was overheating. It took a long time but it could happen. 

“However,” He smiled at her. “I understand what you are going through, how emotions can control a person, and I see your improvement. I admit, Lena Oxton, I’m surprised.” 

He dropped her and turned away, leaving her a coughing mess on the ground.

“You passed. Tomorrow, we begin your true induction into Talon.” 

She stayed there on the ground, breathing heavily and her body bruised. She was glad, or as glad as she could be, that she had passed. But what did the Talon induction consist of? What would they do to her? Doomfist had nearly killed her, would she survive what followed?

“Dios mio,” Sombra said, appearing next to Lena from thin air. “Are you going to lay there forever? Vamos, I’ll show you your room.” She offered the brit a hand and a mischievous smile.

“Why are you being...pleasant?” Lena asked, reluctantly taking the hand and allowing herself to be helped up. 

“Unlike most of Talon, I understand the value of friends,” Sombra replied casually, the two now walking through a small door into the rest of the base. 

“Something tells me you have a funny definition of friendship,” Lena murmured as the two walked the hallways. As they passed some guards the group seemed to drill their eyes into her. 

“Don’t mind them, they’re always grumpy,” The Mexican woman said, flicking her hand at them like someone would a pet. 

As they walked the two passed a window, the first one she had seen in this cursed base so far, and she was quite shocked. Inside was a recreation room, almost exactly the one in Overwatch. In one corner there were a few sofas facing a holo-screen playing the latest soccer matches of the Summer Games, against the right wall there was a bar with stools and an Omnic wiping some glasses. A pool table stood nearby and an old-timey jukebox lay behind it, waiting to be used. Lena wondered if it had the same songs as the machine at Overwatch HQ.

“Reaper designed it,” Sombra commented happily. “I like it.”

“It looks just like the rec room at Overwatch HQ,” Lena muttered back, slowing down. 

She could see Jack and McCree playing pool with a couple beers, Hanzo lounging nearby ready to play the winner. Genji would be sitting with his legs crossed on the sofa and Mercy would be cuddling up with her close friend Fareeha on the other side. Winston, kind that he was, always went behind the bar to make delicious beverages. He had quite a knack for it too. 

“Seems like you two have something in common,” Sombra snickered. 

“Reaper and I?” She snorted. “Continue the tour.”

It didn’t take much longer. Lena supposed that the base was much bigger, with dozens of rooms she hadn’t peeked at quite yet. As far as she could tell this was the family side of the base. Besides the rec room, there were two kitchens, a shooting range with men laughing, showers, barracks, and so on. The Brit was currently worrying if she would have to share a bunk with some smelly Talon grunt but Sombra answered her right away.

“You will be staying here,” Lena’s new friend declared, looking more than a little smug when the Brit walked in for a look.

With a purple flash, a metal door slid silently open, revealing a comfy looking room of decent size. A small bed with several pillows sat in the far left corner, with a night table sitting next to it. The far right corner had one of those modern desks of sleek black, a laptop already on and several bits and bobs for papers, gimmicks, and so on, plus one of those chairs that spin (yes, Lena still spun on those all the time.) A closet was integrated to the right wall, either empty or filled with whatever Talon wore and a nicely worn rug dominated the middle of the room. 

Lena’s heart skipped a beat as she entered. This was almost exactly like her room, minus the charger for her chronal accelerator and a few other personal items, it was her room. 

“I hope you like it, I personally made sure it’d be made for you,” Sombra cooed, letting the door shut between them.

The message was clear. Talon, or at least Sombra, had more eyes and information on her then she had known. She sighed. Her curiosity peaked as she noticed a note on her new bed. In simple, pretty cursive:

Tomorrow. 8 am. 

A promise? Or simply an order? She had no clue.


End file.
